


Her Fight

by EmScully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer, Cancer Arc, Gen, Hurt, One Shot, Sad, scully angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmScully/pseuds/EmScully
Summary: A moment of realization during Dana's illness.





	Her Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the depressing fic.

Dana Scully’s apartment 2:49 am

It wasn’t unusual for Dana to wake up in a cold sweat. She rolled to her side, the skin of her back felt like crepe paper, like any movement would cause her skin to split. Fuck the chemo. Fuck it all, she thought as she coughed wearily; a weak attempt at suppressing a gag. A new sheen of sweat broke out over her forehead and upper lip and she moaned quietly, using every bit of energy she had to untangle herself from the sheets and drag her body to the bathroom. She heaved in the dark, her body empty but not convinced. She shook on her knees, arms grasping the toilet bowl as her body protested; she gasped for breath whenever she could. 

After what seemed like eternity but was probably only a few minutes, Scully leaned against the bathtub, the cool porcelain a welcome relief. The nausea had passed but the dry heaves had caused her constant headache to morph into a migraine. Between her eyes pulsed with every heartbeat and she pressed her fingers into the bones below her eyebrows, the pressure doing almost nothing but it was a habit more so than comfort. Her phone rang, the sound reverberated through her head and she grimaced. At three in the morning there was no question who was on the other end, it was always the same. She thought about letting it ring, but she wanted the familiarity, the comfort, of the deep baritone voice of her partner. She made her way to the bedroom, picked up the phone and clicked “talk.”

“You okay Scully?” He asked before she could say hello, his voice sleepy but concerned. 

How does he always know? She sat heavily on the bed and held her head in her free hand, “not great,” she answered honestly, surprising herself.  
She must have surprised Mulder too because there was a pause, the creak of the couch and a cough, “Scully?” He sounded more awake. 

“It’s nothing, Mulder, just a rough night.”

Mulder breathed into the phone, “can I do anything? Do you need anything?” Scully shook her head. “Scully?”

“Sorry, no, thank you. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he didn’t sound convinced, “are you coming in tomorrow?”

“No, I don’t think so,” she swallowed at the admission. 

“Okay, get some rest, alright? I will check on you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Mulder.”

“Hey Scully?”

“Yeah?” 

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she hung up before he could answer. Her pajamas were damp from sweat and she felt chilled. She rolled to the middle of her bed and pulled the duvet to her chin and around her shoulders. Poor Mulder. The fact was; it wasn’t going to be okay. She wasn’t going to be okay. This was the beginning of the end, and as weak as she was, she would continue to use the last amount of strength she had to make sure Mulder was okay, that he never had a reason to worry about her. This was her fight. Her head pounded and she closed her eye, fireworks exploded in the dark with every thump of her pulse. She would continue to fight, for him.


End file.
